


Midnight at Billie's

by Elart



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Canon Compliant, Diners, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Original Character(s), Original Character-centric, Original Female Character(s) - Freeform, POV Original Character, POV Original Female Character, Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-11
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-21 17:55:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,577
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14290218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elart/pseuds/Elart
Summary: The late night shift at Billie's didn't sound like much fun to Jo, a jazz singer turned waitress and recent arrival to this New England rural town. That was until she learned about the mysterious blue-eyed patron that visits the 1940's-themed establishment every night at closing time.





	1. Track 1

The ring alerted the two waitresses that one of the last patrons of the night had entered the diner. Jo looked up from the table she was cleaning to the person whose steps filled the empty restaurant. The person had their back turned to her as he walked and sat at the red leather booth nearest to the door, setting down a bundle of newspaper he held under his arm before settling down on the seat. A dark jacket hung loosely on his broad shoulders, a red Henley shirt underneath. On top of his head and over his hair was a faded baseball cap. His blue jeans and working boots were splattered with dirt, but the black gloves he wore were perfectly clean. It was exactly midnight, and in a few minutes the OPEN sign would be turned around.

 

“I’ll be right with you, sir,” Jo heard co-worker Jane call out to him from behind the counter. She watched as the brunette walked to the table, pitcher and coffee cup in hand, and poured him an entire one without asking him. Jo saw him take a sip from the cup.

 

“Three number fours?” She asked the customer and Jo saw him nod, “Coming right up.”

 

Jane and Jo met behind the counter.

 

“Who’s that?” Jo asked in a hushed tone.

 

“A regular. Comes every day right before closing time, orders the same thing, reads old newspapers, doesn’t say a peep, leaves a huge tip, and leaves right before we close. I think he’s a construction worker.”

 

“How do you know his order then?”

 

“Hand signals. At first I found it kind of annoying, and a little weird, but like I said, he’s a great tipper. He orders the same thing every night so I don’t even have to ask.”

 

“How long has he been coming here?”

 

“About a month, I think. We were all suspicious the first couple of days, but he leaves good money and doesn’t make a fuss, so what the hell? Plus, he’s really handsome,” Jane answered, winking and giggling at Jo’s eye roll.

 

“How can you tell under all those layers?”

 

“He’s _really_ handsome,” Jane finished the conversion upon hearing the kitchen bell by turning away from Jo and continuing her work.

 

Jo walked up to the diner’s door and turned the sign on the door to CLOSED. Tonight was her first night shift, and it was just as dull and slow as she expected it to be, even with Jane’s company. No more than twenty customers had entered since seven o’clock. However, this was Jane’s last week, as she was moving away and Jo would be taking over her shift. She had taken it with the hopes of having time for a day job teaching music at the local nearby elementary school, for which she had an interview the following week that had her nerves on edge.

 

“Jo?” Jane asked her, wringing her white apron in her hands.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Would you mind if I left early today? I have to help Ed pack.”

 

Jane and her husband Ed, a very nice accountant, were moving to Michigan, which was why Jo was taking over her night shift.

 

“Yeah, of course. No problem.”

 

“Thank you so much,” Jane sighed in relief as she removed her apron, “you’d just have to finish with Mystery Guy over there and help the guys close up.”

 

Jane gave Jo a quick hug of gratitude and ran to the locker room, throwing the apron over her shoulder. Jo observed her a few minutes after rushing out the front door, hopping in her car and driving off.

 

“Order’s up!” the chef, Cirilo, bellowed and dinged the bell.

 

Jo grabbed the round tray meant for large orders and placed the three plates with identical contents on it. She was impressed by the amount of food the man intended to eat. Number four on the menu consisted of one fried egg, three strips of bacon, two sausages, two hash browns, and a steak. She placed the three plates in a row in front of the customer and took the opportunity to look him over as he watched her serving him.

 

Hidden under the cap and his curtain of hair were a sharp nose, grey blue eyes framed by the prominent bags under them, and a strong jaw covered in stubble. He seemed no older than thirty. His forehead was creased and his jaw was tense. Jo suddenly felt nervous at how tense he was, an automatic reaction to the sight of a wound-up man. She put the last plate down and placed the tray under her arm.

 

“Anything else I can get for you? More coffee?” she asked him. The man shook his head and grabbed the utensils, ready to dig into his meal.

 

The following week elapsed in the same manner. The quiet patron arrived at the exact same time, ordered the same thing, and left right as Jo finished cleaning the restaurant. She quickly learned the ropes of the night shift from Jane. She also learned, much to her chagrin, that the nightly customers weren’t as fond of the jukebox as the ones that came before the sun set. She looked over at the machine constantly, hoping someone would insert a quarter and drown out the sounds of utensils scrapping against plates and the sizzling grease in the kitchen with 1940s tunes. Apparently, the owner of the restaurant was adamant that the restaurant be as authentic a recreation of one from the days before the Cold Era as possible. Most of the furniture and the decorations, as well as the jukebox, were refurbished from antique stores and collectors. With the exception of the prices, a visit to Billie’s was like entering a large time capsule.

 

Jane’s last day was a bit emotional. She had worked at the diner for four years and lived in the town her whole life, one of the few people to do so. This wasn’t a town people stayed in for too long, but rather part of a longer journey for those who passed by. The rest of the waitresses stuck around after their shift to partake in a small farewell party. Cake and Coke were shared amongst employees and customers. Kind words about Jane were spoken. Some cake was left over by the time the night shift officially started. A piece was offered to every patron, and some asked for seconds. By the time the brooding customer walked through the door, only a piece was left. Jane left around that time, her eyes teary as she wished Jo good luck on her interview and gave her her email, urging her to keep in touch. Jo smiled sadly and said she would. She watched as her now former coworker walked out the door for the last time, her summer dress blowing in the wind as she entered the passenger seat of her car. She kissed Ed hello and blew Jo a kiss as the car pulled out of the parking lot and towards the new life they were building for themselves.

 

After serving the sole patron his three orders, Jo eyed the last piece of cake and brought it to him hesitantly. He looked up at her, knife upright in his hand and his mouth full. She made eye contact with his glaring blue eyes, only breaking it when he blinked at her, urging her to say something.

 

“Would you like a piece of carrot cake, sir? It’s on the house,” she offered, her voice a pitch higher. He looked down at his plates in thought and then back up at her, giving her a small nod. She placed it to his right side and stepped away, her face feeling strangely warm from the interaction. From then on, carrot cake was added to his nightly order.

 

***

 

Working the night shift by herself was a bit more hectic than Jo expected. By the time the mystery man arrived, she would be exhausted from serving and cleaning since eight o’clock. She had to finish her shift without stains on her pale blue uniform. In addition to that, the absence of music in the diner was putting a damper on her spirits. It would still be a week until she found out if the teaching job was hers. Jo suspected she wouldn’t last that long, so after five days working this new shift, she asked chef Cirilo as they closed the diner:

 

“Is the jukebox only for customers to use?”

 

“I don’t know. Why? Silence getting to ya?” he teased her.

 

“A little bit,” she replied shyly.

 

“I can ask during the midday shift, but I don’t think it’ll be a problem. As long as quarters are coming in, Boss Man probably won’t care.”

 

Cirilo did as he said and asked the midday chef, who asked one of the waitresses, who asked the manager when he came in for his weekly visit two days later, who gave permission for employees to operate the jukebox. Jo was delighted when Cirilo broke the news to her. That very same night she took advantage of the slow business and made her way towards the machine. She scanned all the albums, searching for an upbeat song to tap her feet to. When she found it, she couldn’t help clapping her hands in delight at her choice.

 

Benny Goodman’s _Jersey Bounce_ blasted through the diner. It was immediately followed by the sound of a utensil falling to the floor. Jo turned to find the lone costumer looking down at the floor, fist clenched by his side. She walked over and picked up the fork as he bent down to get it, his gloved hand grazing hers. He retracted his hand in a flash. She straightened herself up and gave him an awkward smile.

 

“I’m sorry to have startled you. I’ll give a heads up next time,” she looked at the bent fork in her hand and her mouth dropped open. She looked back at him, but he was hiding behind his hair.

 

“Let me get you another fork,” she chuckled uncomfortably and he nodded. She shuffled away, shaking a bit to the music and humming along, trying not to think too much about how this man almost snapped a piece of metal in half a second.


	2. Track 2

The following weeks for Jo followed in the same manner, the only variation being the song she chose on the jukebox. She would wake up at eleven o’clock, have cereal for brunch, answer emails from Jane and her mother, read the newspaper, apply for day jobs, have lunch, go for a run around the town’s quaint little park, come back to her single room apartment, get ready for work, drive to the diner, start her shift, finish her shift, drive back home, have a late night snack, take a bath, take her sleeping pills, succumb to them, wake up at eleven again, repeat again and again, all of this while trying to stave off the boredom and the loneliness that had been threatening to consume her since the day she arrived at this town in the middle of nowhere three months ago.

 

That night, the next-to-last patron had already left, leaving the mystery man alone to finish his apple pie. It had been a difficult day, the first she had had in a long time. She had received a call from the school that the position had been offered to someone else. Jo’s eyes still burned when she thought about it, holding back the tears that were still left over from that afternoon. She had other interviews and phone calls lined up, but this was the only job she had really wanted. It was her only opportunity to have music back in her life permanently, and a way to share her love for it.

 

As she wiped down the counter, tears slipped out of her eyes and down her nose unto the surface she had just cleaned. She was so focused on not weeping she didn’t realize that Harry James’ _It’s Been a Long, Long Time_ was blasting through the diner until a few seconds in.

 

_Never thought that you would be_  
_standing here so close to me_  
_there's so much I feel that I should say_  
_but words can wait until some other day_

 

Her head snapped up and towards the jukebox to see the silent customer walk from the jukebox and back to his table. He finished the rest of his meal, folded the newspapers and placed them under his arm, then left two twenty dollar bills before exiting without looking back.

 

“I was beginning to wonder when you would start playing some tunes,” Cirilo told her when she stepped inside the kitchen to hand the dishwasher the last dirty plates of the night.

 

“It wasn’t me,” Jo muttered in reply.

 

“Then who?” Cirilo creased his thick brow, “Mystery guy?”

 

Jo nodded as she began removing her apron.

 

“Huh. Maybe he prefers it to the silence. Or maybe missed your singing,” he smiled at her warmly.

 

Jo blinked and looked down at the floor, her face hot with embarrassment.

 

“You can hear me?

 

“Yeah, of course. I was telling this one the other day that you have a beautiful voice. You sound like a professional,” he answered, pointing his thumb at the dishwasher, who turned and nodded quickly.

 

“Thank you,” she muttered, leaving the kitchen hurriedly so Cirilo wouldn’t start asking questions and the two men wouldn’t see the tears slipping down her face.

 

***

  
Jo arrived the following night with a plan. She had assumed that this mystery man didn’t pay much mind to what occurred around him, as he always seem immersed in his reading. The previous night had been an indication that perhaps she had unknowingly made a connection with him. She was set on confirming this possibility. Like she had done the previous night, Jo didn’t play a song after bringing him his order, instead beginning to clean up. As she mopped the half of the diner he wasn’t seated in, she watched as he stood up and made his way to the jukebox.

 

_This lovely day will lengthen into evening_  
_We'll sigh good-bye to all we've ever had_  
_Alone where we have walked together_  
_I'll remember April and be glad_

 

He made eye contact with her for the first time ever, his eyes veering away after an instant. He sat back down, continuing his meal. Jo began singing to the song she knew by heart and saw his head perk up a bit and then lower again.

 

_I'll be content, you loved me once in April_  
_Your lips were warm, and love an' spring were new_  
_But I'm not afraid of autumn, and her sorrow_  
_For I'll remember, (I'll remember)_  
_April and you! (I'll remember)_

 

Her voice become louder as she sang, gaining confidence at the fact that she had an audience. By the end of the song, her voice filled the diner, surpassing the clangs and clinks of the pots coming from the kitchen.

 

_I'll remember April, and I'll smile_  
_I won't forget but I won't be lonely, no_  
_I'll remember April, and I'll smile!_  
_This lovely day will fade away_

 

The music died out and Jo realized the diner had gone completely silent. She heard applauses coming from the kitchen and laughed sheepishly. The mystery guy resumed eating. Before exiting that night, he turned back and offered her a half-smile.

**Author's Note:**

> After months of reading/obsessing over MCU fan fiction for months I figured I should start writing some of my own. Shout out to my classmates and professor from the Fan_Fic class where the first two chapters were workshopped for all your help and invaluable comments. 
> 
> Disclaimer: I wrote the first ever outline of this in August 2017. The fact that I've published it here right after other Bucky diner stories is an unfortunate coincidence.


End file.
